


Decoction

by leupagus



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Female Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leupagus/pseuds/leupagus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From rob-anybody's <a href="http://rob-anybody.tumblr.com/post/69535653897">excellent tag spiral</a>:</p><p>WHERE IS THE HOBBIT RESTAURANT AU #WHERE THRANDUIL IS THE PIE KING #AND THORIN RUNS A SUCCESSFUL 5-STAR RESTAURANT #AND HE USED TO SELL THRANDUIL'S PIES THROUGH HIS PLACE #UNTIL THERE WAS A HORRIBLE FALLING OUT OVER SOMETHING STUPID #AND NOW THEY'RE MORTAL ENEMIES #MEANWHILE DWALIN MAKES SPECIAL MEALS FOR THRANDUIL AGAINST THORIN'S WISHES #BECAUSE HE JUST WANTS THEM TO GET BACK TOGETHER AGAIN #(either personally or professionally; he doesn't care which) #SO THAT THEY'LL STOP HAVING SCREAMING MATCHES IN THE MIDDLE OF LUNCH HOUR #BILBO AS THE REGULAR CUSTOMER WHO IS CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ARGUMENT AND DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO ESCAPE #SMAUG AS THE TERRIBLE SNOTTY FOOD CRITIC THAT NO ONE LIKES #THE REST OF THE DWARVES EITHER WORK THE KITCHEN OR THE FINANCES #SO THORIN HAS PLENTY OF TIME TO IVSIT THRANDUIL AND YELL AT HIM OVER PIE FILLING CHOICES AND GENERAL BUSINESS ACUMEN #CHI MCBRIDE AS THRANDUIL'S SECOND-IN-COMMAND WHO JUST WANTS SOME GODDAMN PEACE AND QUIET #AND TO BE DONE WITH THIS ELF AND HOBBIT BULLSHIT</p><p>The prompt went a little sideways from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decoction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rob-anybody](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rob-anybody).



This is the third time it’s happened.

It's the third time Bilbo’s seen it, to be fair — perhaps it happens more often. But every time it does, she spills her chai latte all over something and Dwalin has to make her a new one (on the house, since as he puts it, no customer should be charged for Acts of God or Arseholes) and get the mop out to sop up the mess.

"Pumpkin," the tall man announces this time, as he’s flinging the shop door open so that it crashes against the wall and makes Bilbo spill her chai. She doesn’t get any on herself — mostly it goes onto her laptop.

"Should just attach a spare mop next to your regular table," Kíli says, appearing as if by magic at her side with said implement in hand. "Oh God — is it fried?"

"It’s fine," she assures him. Bilbo’s far too engrossed in watching the way the tall man marches toward the display case to pay her dead computer much mind. It’s the paper’s computer, anyway; all she’s lost is the half of this week’s review of that truly dreadful French-style pizzeria that she’d started before clicking over to Minesweeper, and also all her Minesweeper high scores, which she honestly does regret a bit.

For his part, the barista at the counter doesn’t look impressed with the entrance. Thorin — who’s apparently the owner, though he gives off more of a “soulful lumberjack wounded by his past” sort of air — folds his arms across his really quite impressive chest and scowls. “One of the benefits of not dating you anymore, Thranduil,” he rumbles, “Is that I get to punch you in the face when you call me things like that.”

Thranduil Greenleaf, owner of the largest pastry distributor in the city — Bilbo’s done her share of googling after the first time he’d flung his way into the shop — drops the box he’s carrying in his hand onto the counter. “Pumpkin  _pie_. Lard-based crust with a whiskey butter sauce,” he hisses at Thorin.

Thorin raises an eyebrow. “Malt or grain?”

"Malt, you disgusting creature."

"Chilled the butter?"

"Of course."

With great deliberation, Thorin opens the box. Presumably there’s a pie in there. Bilbo finds herself holding her breath as he stares down into the box. “This is very stressful,” she mutters to Kíli, who’s prodding at her to lift up her feet so he can mop under her chair.

"Why?" he asks, low. "It always ends the same."

"D’you think they’ll ever get back together?" Bilbo asks, as Dwalin comes around the counter with her new chai.

Dwalin makes a truly revolted face. “Apparently Thorin’s set his cap at someone else,” he grumbles. “And after all this trouble I’ve gone to to get them talking  _this_  much.”

"I can hear you," Thorin says, still looking in the box. Thranduil turns to glare at Bilbo and her table of miscreant baristas; Thorin snaps the box shut and underhands it neatly into the trash bin.

Thranduil transfers his glare back to Thorin, then whirls out in a flurry of ugly Belstaff. 

"It's a pity he won’t sell Greenleaf Pies here," Bilbo sighs, as the susurrus of the coffee shop resumes. "I quite like them. The blueberry in particular is rather good."

*

The next day Thorin’s the one to ring up her chai. “Sorry we’ve got no blueberry pies for you,” he sniffs, squinting at the cash register because Bilbo’s only been coming here for a few months but she already knows the owner’s got a truly hilarious streak of vanity and won’t wear glasses.

"I’ll soldier on somehow," she says cheerfully, because her favorite seat — the one right next to both a radiator and an electric plug — is free, her editor pretended to believe her feeble lie about a mugger vindictively pouring caffeinated beverages on the company computer and provided her with a new one, and she’s gotten a particularly wonderful death threat over her review of the latest Nobu that she’s planning on having framed. It’s a rather nice day, for a Tuesday.

She looks up from her coin purse at the sound of a rustling bag, plopped in front of her. Thorin’s scowl gets even worse when she opens her mouth to ask, so she just gives him the money, takes the bag, and retreats to her table. 

A minute or so later Kíli comes round with her chai; she waves the bag at him. “Is this a bomb?” she demands.

"Worse," Kíli says solemnly. "I think it’s a muffin."

"A blueberry muffin — I don’t know why you think I can’t hear you from here," says Thorin, from behind the counter.

"And I don’t know why you think feeding me pastries is going to make me write a review of this place," Bilbo says. "I don’t do coffee shops."

"Sorry, can’t hear you," Thorin says serenely.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Decoction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3126305) by [leupagus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leupagus/pseuds/leupagus), [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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